


wrecking hotel rooms

by themidsummersoldier



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, alcohol tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidsummersoldier/pseuds/themidsummersoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>\\\ "We are so dead," she choked out. Beside her, she felt Fitz sigh rather than heard it. /// in which fitz and skye try to escape the memories of the season finale and specifically the actions of he who shall not be named</p>
            </blockquote>





	wrecking hotel rooms

**Author's Note:**

> originally published on tumblr in june 2014. this was written right after the aos season 1 finale, and before we knew any details about season 2, so I guess it's a bit of an AU now? honestly I cringe just thinking about it because it's so old, but I'm determined to upload all of my fics on here. there is no real plot, and I used a heck of a lot of commas and italics. oops. title comes from an mxpx song. enjoy~

-

”You look sexy with facial hair.”

A pause, and then-

"s’alcohol talking."

Vowels tripped into the consonants as Fitz’s response slurred together in a combination of intoxication and the after effects of cerebral hypoxia. Rolling her eyes, Skye grinned as she tipped her head back over the side of the hotel bathtub that she and Fitz were currently sitting against. As an afterthought she pulled her hair forward so it wouldn’t hang down into what was most certainly a flourishing mold garden. Absently, she counted a row up and a row across of ceiling tiles, multiplied them, divided by the number of tiles with mildew, and attempted to work out a percentage. It had to be at least higher than fifty, although her alcohol riddled mind couldn’t comprehend the formulas needed to get to an exact answer. The fact that she couldn’t concentrate seemed absolutely hilarious, and she giggled.

"We are so dead," she choked out. Beside her, she felt Fitz sigh rather than heard it. Although he didn’t say anything, she could fill in what he was thinking. _He probably didn’t even care, he had cheated death once, he was willing to do it again._

_And again._

_And again._

_And-_

"Fuck!" she shrieked, jumping off the tile floor so quickly that, once she got to her feet, the entire bathroom seemed to tilt forwards, then to the left, then backwards-

Fitz’s reaction was delayed, but he turned his head quick enough to see a rat-sized centipede scurry towards the uncaulked crack between the bathtub and wall.

"We’re getting up now," Skye announced, eyes squinting as she attempted to gain her balance back. Fitz started to protest, taking a half-hearted drink from the bottle he had gripped in his right hand. She stepped towards him, cautiously, with an eye out for any more monstrosities, and reached out her arm. Reluctantly, he swung his free hand into hers, wincing as the wad of toilet paper covering his bloody knuckles fell to the floor with a satisfying plunk. She tried pulling him up, but he kept himself a dead weight.

"Come on, Fitz, this bathroom is disgusting," she pleaded, carefully rearranging her fingers between his so as not to aggravate the gashes that the mirror in the other room had caused him.

Her daily dose bad girl shenanigans had started that morning, when Jemma was worrying over leaving Fitz and attending a meeting somewhere far off with Agent Weaver, and several other high-ups within the “ _new-and-improved_ ” Shield. Fitz’s mother had gone back to the UK on the threat of losing her job just a few weeks earlier, and Simmons didn’t like Fitz alone. Fitz alone tended to do stupid, dangerous, stuff. Skye had offered to stay with him, and Jemma had cautiously agreed. Unfortunately, Skye tended to do stupid, dangerous, stuff when she got upset, and the frequency in which The Former Shield Agent Who Shall Not Be Named’s name kept coming up was, admittedly, upsetting. Grabbing her van keys, she had mumbled something about “ _not being drunk enough for this kind of talk_ ,” and had proceeded to improvise Fitz and her self’s way out of the physical rehab facility he was living in. They had gone to the nearest liquor store they could find, bought the cheapest alcohol they could find, and checked into the nearest and cheapest hotel they could find. Once safely inside a room without any listening devices, or nurses posted at every corner, they had ranted their little hearts out, all punctuated with as much crappy liquor as they could manage between the shouting and the screaming and the crying. _“Fitz angry_ ” tended to lead to “ _things broken_ ”, hence the shattered mirror on the carpeted floor and the blood splatters on the bathroom tiles. That had surprised Skye. She had heard about his incident at Providence Base, of course, but to witness it first hand was something else.

They’d pay for the damages in the morning.

Snapping back to the present, Fitz finally relented and slowly raised himself off the floor. Skye nodded, then led the way out of the bathroom that they had originally entered to try and find some bandages. No luck. The main area of the hotel room was simple, two twin beds, a pair of folding chairs and a cheap wooden table on which sat a TV that must have come out of someone’s great-grandmother’s attic. Fitz moved slowly, but with more control than was to be expected, and carefully collapsed onto one of the beds. Skye started towards the other one, but back tracked to the bathroom door and closed it as tight as it would go on cracked hinges. She did _not_ want that _thing_ getting out. As she dived head first into the pillow, the first thing she noticed was the wet dog smell. Disgusting. Sighing, she flipped herself over so as not to pass out. The sun was setting through the tiny window against the far wall, and Skye reveled in the coming darkness. Darkness meant sweet unconsciousness for at least a few hours or so.

_If she was lucky._

"You know what the most messed up part of this is?" she heard herself asking after a few minutes of quiet.

Fitz started to make a noise in response, but didn’t quite get it out as his teeth were chattering against each other.

"Wait, are you shivering?" Skye asked, propping herself up on one elbow. Even through the deepening darkness she could see Fitz laying flat on his back, body shaking. His hands fumbled to try and pull the blankets up around him, but that required a coordinated effort of lifting his body and then pulling on the comforter underneath him, and that was coordination that he no longer had. Suppressing a groan, Skye pulled the thin hotel style bedspread out from under her and, with the realization that climbing out of bed would be a monumental task, she mustered up enough strength to _(hopefully)_ toss it the few feet over to Fitz.

_Finger crossed._

"Air conditioning ‘s blowing right on me-" he tried to explain, before being interrupted by the flying blanket. In the silence that followed, she could see Fitz arrange the comforter over him and sink down into the bed as far as he could.

"Most messed up part?" Fitz finally prompted, teeth continuing to knock. It took Skye longer than it should have to remember what she had been about to say. It definitely had something with The Former Shield Agent Who Shall Not Be Named.

"Right," she began, gathering her thoughts so that she could try and articulate her fears, "it’s just, how do I know if anything he said to me was true? And not the big things, y’know, I mean the little things. Like, his favorite ice cream flavor. Stories about when he was younger. The music he listened to. Does he _really_ love board games that much or does he even _like_ Tom Brady-” she paused and took a breath, “It’s those kind of things that get to me. I have no idea what kind of person he really was. He could have had a cover story for everything, right? “

The silence that followed seemed to last forever.

"Were you not listening or am I just that bad at explaining things-"

"I get it," Fitz interrupted her. He still sounded like someone has stuck him in a freezer and locked the doors for a few hours.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Concern was starting to build. The small hotel room was actually a bit warm for Skye’s liking, and she could feel sweat gathering under her shirt, "How can you possibly still be cold?"

"s’fine," Fitz brushed her off, "But really, I get it. He’s a douchebag."

Skye snorted. The idea of The Former Shield Agent Who Shall Not Be Named being a contraceptive was an interesting thought. A much longer silence followed, this one more comfortable than before, although that may have had something to do with the contraceptive idea still fresh in her mind. She closed her eyes, and time seemed to both slow down and speed up.

"Skye?"

Fitz’s teeth seemed to be practically vibrating now.

"Hmmm?" Skye replied, suddenly realizing that she was tired. _And wasted_. A glance at the electric alarm clock beside her bed showed that it was nearly midnight. Maybe she _had_ dozed off.

"I’m not cold."

Skye’s first thought was “ _Hi Not Cold, I’m Dad_ ,” which was definitely a bad sign. She made a confused noise, and waited for him to explain. He didn’t.

"If you’re not cold, then why are you shivering?" she finally gave in.

"For starters, I’m on at least eight different medications that are normally presented to me in a cute little Dixie cup beside my dinner."

It took an extra few seconds for her to process what he said, as oxygen depravation tended to leave behind nasty little reminders, including, but not limited to, slurred speech. It took another second for her to remember that “dinner” had been a McDonald’s drive-through, and she was pretty sure the only thing they had ordered was an incredible amount of fries.

Great. He was going through some withdrawal, complete with the shakes, coupled with alcohol and junk food. Just what the doctor ordered.

"Shit," she mumbled, trying to manuver her phone out of her pocket, "I’m calling your P.T. center."

Fitz didn’t argue. _Definitely_ not a good sign, Skye thought, as the phone went to voicemail.

“ _Dammit_ ,” she hissed. What kind of medical center didn’t answer their phones. “I’m calling Trip, he can pick us up.”

Fitz groaned a bit at that, but she knew it was good natured. The two agents had become easy friends over the past few months, perhaps aided by their mutual love of monkeys. Trip’s voice was groggy over the phone, but Skye was pretty sure she managed to get her point across. He promised to be there in ten minutes, all the while trying not to choke between yawns and giggles and swears. Apparently he found the situation funny. _Of course_. Tossing her phone aside, Skye settled back into the bed.

_Now to wait._

"Sorry for getting you into this," she mumbled, not even sure if Fitz was listening.

"Glad you did." came Fitz’s quick reply. Skye grinned. There would be hell to pay later, from Trip, from Jemma, from Coulson, from the doctors, from hotel management. She had used a fake ID to buy the alcohol, so that would probably be back to bite her ass before too long as well. But she couldn’t say that she regretted it. They had needed this time, just the two of them, to work out some of their mutual issues with The One Who’s Name Shall Not Be Uttered. Fitz had been the one who had continued to believe in him, continued to believe that there was still good in that traitor, and Skye, as much as she was disgusted with herself, had actually _liked_ He Who Shall Not Be Named. The others had been hurt too, sure, but she didn’t think any of them quite understood. May might, but Skye just couldn’t quite imagine Agent Mulan wasting energy getting drunk in a hotel room at one in the morning. Skye smiled at the image and then-

 _"Me too,"_ her reply to Fitz came in a whisper. Yes, there would certainly be hell in a few minutes, but until then, she could rest easier with the thought of Ward for the first time in a long while.

_end._

**Author's Note:**

> i like how skye bandaging fitz's hand was reflected in aftershocks, with fitz bandaging skye's hands. i just don't know how i do it ;)


End file.
